Much like Jay Gatsby, I own a library of books I’ve never read. Not that I know that, I’ve not read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s opus. Nor have I Tolstoy’s, so I fear it’s time to wage war on my own hubris.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here, shawty. Dante’s Inferno is the quintessential trip down south. Pointing out the landmarks is our main man, Sparky Sweets.
Continuing on with last week’s narrative thread, we asked writer Lachlan Liesfield what books he’d plunge himself into an inferno to save.